


Stop All The Clocks

by etoilecourageuse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cemetery, Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Illnesses, Major Illness, Rain, Terminal Illnesses, Wakes & Funerals, Widowed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/etoilecourageuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gathering of mourners, empty words followed by silence… How can this possibly be good-bye?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop All The Clocks

The rain would not cease to fall. It had long drenched her robes, causing her body to tremble with cold, her hair to stick to her face in thick strands but she would not bother brushing it away, would not move and merely stood there, stood there as though she had turned into stone… 

And perhaps she had. Perhaps Narcissa had long turned into stone, perhaps she had long lost her senses… But no. Of course she hadn’t, of course she had not turned into stone no matter how despairing, how burning her desire, of course she hadn’t… 

The rain would not cease to fall and it felt as though heaven, too, were weeping, as though despite the countless tears she had shed for him it were to assist her in her mourning. She had grown too weak, too weary even to grieve, yet tears came streaming down her cheeks now as well, mingling with the raindrops and falling to the ground, unrecognised. 

She had not turned into stone… Would her tears still fall otherwise, would she still be stricken by such pain, such unspeakable agony, would it still feel as though her heart were in flames, as though it were to shatter into a thousand pieces every day, every hour anew? She had not turned into stone… She had not turned into stone and yet wished for nothing more, as only then her soul would find peace at last. 

Narcissa had walked down the aisle slowly yet with firm steps, afraid to once more surrender to her grief, afraid to lose her composure, had felt strangers’ gazes burn upon her skin but never turned her head, never dared, never allowed herself to look at those who had come to bid their farewells to her husband as otherwise perhaps she would have broken down right there. She had not dared to look at them… Wouldn’t it have caused her even further pain to see how many of them were missing, dead or imprisoned, to see how few people who had once cared deeply for them were there, and to find the church nearly empty of those who had once mattered? Wouldn’t it have taken her breath away to find nobody there by his grave, except for her son and his beautiful wife? They were so young… Too young to endure such pain, too young to experience what they had experienced, too young to grieve… 

Draco… Her sweet Draco… If only she could have protected him… If only… How many times had she forced herself to smile at him, to ensure him that she was all right and to at least for a moment believe her own lies, as though she were capable of taking away his concern? How many times had she attempted to give him solace, as he had lost his father just as she had lost her husband? How many times had she attempted to give comfort, and to receive it all at once, but it was all in vain? Nothing could give her comfort, nothing at all… How many times had she attempted to convince him that he needn’t worry for his mother as it would be merely a month until he, too, would become a parent, until his entire life would change, from one day to another? Until he forgot about… The boy… He would never know his grandfather, he would never… _She_ would never… 

The incessant rain, the ceremony, the sparse, quiet, condolences… She had endured them all in silence, had stood there and endured their words, empty, meaningless, merely nodding in acknowledgement as she stared straight ahead without seeing, without realising, her sight long blurred, her mind long faded. She had endured them all… 

The past days had felt like a dream to her, like a nightmare that had taken hold of her and assumed control, had felt like a dream that never again she would be capable of waking from, that never again would release her… The past days had felt like a dream to her, _needed_ to be a dream, nothing but a dream, as it could not be true, as it could not possibly… 

He had not left her. Lucius… He had not left her, had not abandoned her as he knew, knew that without him she’d be lost, that without him she… He had not left her! He had not… Could not possibly… A dream... How desperately Narcissa wished for all this to be a dream, to one day to wake up after all, only to find him by her side… How desperately she wished to lose herself, to lose her senses and to grow numb as otherwise she were to drown. As otherwise… 

The past days had felt like a dream to her, had at times, only at times and so briefly, enfolded her into a soothing veil of oblivion, had at times allowed her to fade into a world of her own, had allowed, forced her to endure… Even the ceremony. Narcissa endured even the ceremony, the ceremony she had feared more than anything else, had been so desperate to ban from her mind… She had desired nothing more than for the clocks to stop and time to stand still, for dawn to never break, for the day to… But it had come. Of course the day had come but how could she possibly bid her farewell to the man she had loved so beyond belief, the man who had been her rock, who had known her better than she had even known herself? How could she possibly…? It had been cruel, so cruel, had caused her such agony, such further agony… 

But she had endured. Narcissa had endured. Everything. She had endured, her head held high for no one to notice her despair. 

The rain would not cease to fall… It would not cease to fall, would hide her tears as though to protect her from further harm, from hypocrisies, feigned asseverations of sympathy, and from whispers. Whispers… There would always be whispers but she had long ceased to care, had long ceased to care about her reputation, had long ceased to care about others, as why would it matter? Why would it matter if they noticed the tears that came falling from her eyes, if they saw her weep, mourn the loss of her husband? Why would it matter if she lost her composure, lost her face on a day like this? Why would it matter at all if no tears in this world were capable of truly expressing her sorrow, if nothing were not to return her Lucius to her, not for an hour, not for a minute? Why would anything matter at all? Why… 

The rain would not cease to fall, even long after the ceremony had ended, long after her son, too, had left her side, the grief, the guilt that he, too, were to abandon his mother in such a moment of despair written upon his face. He had spoken to her, of course he had spoken to her, imploring her to join him, to join them, to leave…The rain would not cease to fall… But no. She hadn’t, Narcissa had not left, would still stand there by his grave and not leave, she would not leave… If she were to turn around, if she were to turn around, to… No… She would not, could not… Not now, not yet, not in this moment… She could not… 

Hours seemed to have passed as her legs ceased to carry her, as even the last remnants of her strength faded, forced her to her knees, as she covered her face with her hands and trembled, trembled so beyond belief… How could this be good-bye? How could this possibly be good-bye, the final farewell after all those years, after everything they had endured together, after everything they… How? 

For too long Narcissa had forced herself to hold back, for too long she had suppressed her sobs as now they came bursting from her, choking, nearly suffocating her, as now she was alone, alone once more with her thoughts, alone with her sorrow… A gathering of mourners, a brief ceremony, empty words presumably in his honour that were followed by silence, nothing but silence… How could this possibly be good-bye? How could any of this possibly mean good-bye, the final farewell? 

And hadn’t she bid her farewell long before the burial? Hadn’t she kissed him, kissed him good-bye so tenderly, hadn’t she held him close, looked into his eyes, smiled at him and kissed him, murmuring into his ear until he had slowly, gently faded into sleep within her arms? Hadn’t she bid her farewell to him long before, hadn’t there been time, time to prepare, to say good-bye, hadn’t…? 

Two weeks. Two weeks… Two weeks! They had been granted two weeks, two weeks full of concern, full of agony, and full of hope, hope that perhaps the Healers were mistaken after all, that perhaps they had a chance, no matter how small, that perhaps a miracle… Two weeks… How could two weeks possibly have been enough? 

It had seemed so strange to Narcissa at first that an illness was to claim her husband’s life so suddenly at only fifty-two, had seemed so strange to her that his health were to decrease so quickly, as hadn’t it always been her? Hadn’t it always been her, hadn’t violent bouts of coughing and fever exacerbations bound her to her bed for several weeks at a time, only worsening throughout the years, hadn’t she always been convinced that she would leave this world first, not granted the chance to grow old beside him? Hadn’t she always been convinced, hadn’t she so desired to go first, to leave and not have known a life without Lucius, waiting for him in the afterlife? It had seemed so strange… 

The fever had befallen him at night, had appeared to be a common cold at first but soon proved to be different, so different to anything they knew, anything they were capable of handling… The Healers had granted them two weeks, two weeks that were to decide whether or not he would live, two weeks that meant everything… Everything or nothing. Two weeks… Two weeks! And how much time had he spent in hospital before? He had been there for so long, undergoing treatment after treatment, examination after examination, all in vain as they did nothing, nothing at all but weaken him, deprive him of his precious strength when in truth they were supposed to cure him from his illness, to at least prolong his life, to grant them more time… Until they had surrendered. Two weeks… 

Narcissa had never left his side, not for an hour and not for a minute, had not dared to leave the room, not dared even to sleep, and sat there so close by his bed, only releasing his hand in order not to hinder the Healers in their inefficacious work, reluctantly even then. She had never left his side, had watched him fade with every day passing and only slowly begun to realise that he would not recover. She had realised and felt her heart break, felt her heart burst into a thousand pieces as even her last hope shattered… She had realised. But not accepted. 

Two weeks… Two weeks to accept what could not possibly be accepted, two weeks to bid her farewell to her beloved husband, to Lucius, her Lucius, the rock her life was built upon… Two weeks… Two weeks until he would be torn from this life, torn from her so cruelly, so mercilessly, two weeks until… Two weeks.

He would not spend his final days in hospital. He wouldn’t, Lucius would not leave this world like this, needed to be at home, at home within his own walls, in his own bed… He would not spend his final days in hospital! And indeed the Healers had granted them to return to Malfoy Manor despite initial protests, initial concerns, indeed they had resigned as why… Why shouldn’t he once more find himself within his familiar surroundings as there was nothing, nothing at all they could do to save him, as they had attempted everything, truly everything? He would not spend his final days in hospital… 

Narcissa had ensured them that she would care for him, that she would do everything, anything to ease his pain, and of course she would, of course she would care for him, gladly, would care for him as he had so often cared for her… How tender he had been, how loving and how patient, how incredibly patient… Of course she would… Even if he were to live but not to recover, even if he were to remain in such a state for weeks, months, instead of mere days, she would care for him, would do, give everything, sacrifice everything for him, even her own life. How willingly, how gladly she would exchange her life for his, how gladly she would bargain with each God in heaven above she found willing to listen only to save him… 

Wasn’t it selfish, to be so desperate to keep him on his earth, to keep him by her side, even if it had become time for him to leave, even if he were longing for peace? Wasn’t it so selfish of her to pray for his life when she could see so clearly that he suffered, suffered so beyond words, when she could see so clearly that nothing would be capable of relieving his agony, of soothing his pain and returning his strength to him? He was lost… 

How much she loved him… How much she loved him, how much she needed him… Countless times Narcissa had told herself that for love, only for love, she would do everything to save him, everything to prolong his life, that only for love she… But shouldn’t she let him go? Wasn’t it time to let him go, to allow him to find relief in another world, a world without pain, a world without sorrow? Wasn’t it the greatest proof of love to let him go when…? How much she needed him… How much she had desired to go first… But he would wait for her now… He would wait for her in the afterlife, as she had vowed to wait for him… It was time to let him go, to release him, to… It was time…

It was time… But it was so difficult. It was so difficult to hide her tears from him, to look at him, to see his face contorted with pain and to smile, to always smile… Narcissa noticed so clearly that he struggled, struggled so beyond belief, noticed so clearly that he battled against the fever and could scarcely speak, could scarcely keep his eyes open yet forced himself for her, only for her… It was so difficult… But she smiled. Smiled for him, would not allow herself to break down in his presence, and to let him see, to cause him to notice her endless grief. She smiled… 

Narcissa smiled, as how could she do anything but smile at him in her despairing attempt to relieve him from his concern, his struggle? She noticed the guilt within his eyes, could see the sadness, and the burning desire to fight, to fight only for her… But she could also see the resignation. The weariness. So how, how could she, how dare she allow herself to show her sadness, how dare she cause him more pain, how dare she cause him guilt when he was not to blame, when he suffered so beyond belief? How dare she be selfish in a way like this, how dare she be selfish and still whisper to herself that it was for him, that everything she did to prolong his life was only for him, only for Lucius? How dare she…? 

And so she smiled. She smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed and gingerly placing a hand upon his fevered brow, intertwining her fingers gently with his. She smiled… 

“It’s all right…” she murmured and yet knew that there was no need to speak, that they had always understood each other in silence… “It’s all right, my love… My darling… You… It’s all right… I love you…”

The words would not pass her lips. But he knew, knew immediately, smiled, too, the relief written upon his face. For her… He had battled for her, had struggled so… But he would no longer, no longer needed to waste his remaining strength.

Two weeks… Two weeks! He would no longer struggle… Two weeks. It felt as though she, too, were deprived of her strength, as though she were to fall apart… Two weeks… How could two weeks possibly be enough to say good-bye, how could they possibly be enough of an end to what had been meant to last a lifetime? He would no longer struggle… 

She had held him within her arms as he left. Narcissa had held him, had for the first time in what felt like an eternity to her slipped into bed beside him and held him, held him as they both had known, sensed that it was time, that at last he would be released. She had held him, had held him so tight, whispered into his ear… 

Lucius, too, had spoken, nearly silently yet clearly, had for a moment allowed her to believe that everything was all right, that in the morning she would wake and find him watching her as he had always loved to do, that… 

Hadn’t they endured everything, the losses of their parents, two wars, and his time in Azkaban, even their lives as outcasts, fallen from grace? Hadn’t they survived everything, each tragedy they were forced to face, hadn’t they always believed that together they were strong enough to overcome any struggle, any pain? How many times had they comforted each other? How many times had they… Together… As long as they were together… What would she do without him? How would, how _could_ she possibly be capable of facing this life without him, without her husband? He was her everything…. Never to wake up beside him again, never to look into his eyes again, never to hold him… Even the imagination had nearly torn her apart before, but now? Now… 

He would find peace. He would find relief… He would find relief at last… 

She had held him within her arms as he left. Had smiled, always smiled despite her despair as though her smile alone were to make it easier for him, had held him, caressed his cheek and kissed him goodnight as she had done each night for so many years, had watched him as sleep came for him, took him so gently, had watched him and not dared to blink, not dared to breathe... Tears had begun to blur her sight long before she realised that he was gone. That it was over. 

Night had fallen as Narcissa rose from her knees at last, trembling still and collapsing once more mere moments later, dizzy, still overwhelmed by emotion, still overwhelmed by pain… She scarcely had memory of the days after, struggled to remember rising from the bed and giving note to her son, enfolding Draco into her arms to soothe his despair, to give him comfort, struggled even to remember her words during the ceremony mere hours before, the words she had spoken in his honour… She scarcely had memory… 

Only when she had been alone had she allowed herself to weep, to give in to her grief, her weakness, as only then she had felt safe, as only then the loneliness, the pain…

How could time possibly be capable of healing such a wound, how could the days without him become easier, how could living possibly… How? The scars upon her soul, her heart, would never fade, would never heal as she had been injured too severely, as for the first time Lucius had hurt her, had hurt her so beyond belief through no fault of his own, had broken her irreparably and nothing, nothing at all, could possibly give her relief… 

Narcissa would remain by his grave forever if only she were able, would never leave as only in this place she could be close to him still, so close and yet… Yet so far… But it was impossible. Of course it was impossible, impossible to lose herself after all, to surrender after all, and so she rose once more, sobbing still, coughing, nearly choking… 

The rain would not cease to fall. Soon, she knew, the fever would return to her as well and perhaps it would claim her, too, perhaps it would bring her relief at last… Perhaps it would reunite her with her husband. Her everything… Perhaps… 

“Wait for me, Lucius…” she whispered, scarcely capable of speaking, reaching out her hand as though he were there, as though he were right there beside her… “Wait for me… I will be home soon…”

Home… Only with him she would be at home. Only with him… But Narcissa turned away, turned away slowly, reluctantly, yet aware that she had no choice, aware that it would be foolish to linger any longer as otherwise she would freeze, freeze to death right here and she couldn’t mustn’t, not now, not yet… Not in a way like this… She turned away, allowing her breathing to stabilise and then reaching into her pocket for her wand, ready to leave, ready to Disapparate, to return to Malfoy Manor to once more find it empty. 

For a moment she closed her eyes and smiled, smiled as she saw him there in the darkness… Lucius… Soon they would be reunited, soon she would hold him in her arms again… So soon… Soon her suffering, too, would come to an end, and until then she knew that he would watch over her, knew, sensed, that indeed he would wait for her, wait until she came to join him, until her pain were to fade at last, the scars to heal after all. Until together they had in truth overcome everything, even Death.


End file.
